Fall of Lucifer (9 page)

‘There is no danger in our world, Gabriel,’ he pleaded. ‘It is just dreamings . . . imaginings.’

‘Michael?’ Jether’s voice was soft.

Michael turned, visibly distressed, to Jether, who stood in the doorway. ‘Each night I have heard his screams, Jether. He suffers so. It becomes intolerable.’

Jether moved towards the bed, and the light from Eden’s pale moons fell across his face. It was drawn. Haggard. ‘It is the cost for the gift he bears, Michael.’ Jether was quiet for a long moment. ‘He is the revelator, Yehovah’s seer. Each night his dreamings take him through the aeons to future worlds. He sees the travesties, the devastation, that are yet to be wreaked upon our kingdom. He carries these visions in his heart and in his mind.’

Michael shook his head, confused.

Jether smiled compassionately. ‘You, my son, bear a different burden. Gabriel, the revelator – Michael, the warrior.’ Jether closed his eyes. ‘The wars he sees, you will yet fight. Great will be your lot in the aeons to come.’

‘And Lucifer?’

Jether was silent. His forehead furrowed. ‘Leave us, Michael. I would comfort him.’

Michael bowed in respect, kissed Jether on both cheeks, and strode though the bedchamber doors.

Jether placed his wizened hand on the trembling Gabriel’s shoulder. ‘I too am a seer, Gabriel. I see in part what you have seen, my son.’

Gabriel slowly raised his tear-stained face.

‘The risings and the fallings of worlds upon worlds,’ Jether continued softly. ‘The treasons . . . the blasphemies . . . the wars . . . the devastation.’

‘Desertion . . . ’ Gabriel whispered. ‘The race of men. Yehovah is deserted!’

‘Yes, desertion,’ Jether murmured. ‘You have seen truly, Gabriel. But that is not what haunts your dreams.’

Gabriel eased his legs over the bed and rose, flinging his mantle over his unsteady limbs. He moved to the massive windows of his bedchamber, staring out at the amethyst waters lapping at the pearl sands. He lit a vast bowl of myrrh. ‘You read my soul, Jether. That is not what haunts my dreams.’ He turned to Jether. ‘I cannot speak of it.’ Great sobs wracked his frame. ‘He must be warned! He could not do such a thing.’

Gabriel and Jether stared at each other for a long while in the darkness.

‘I will go to him,’ Gabriel said.

‘His love for you is very powerful.’ Jether looked at Gabriel, his face etched with grief. ‘It is second only to his love for Yehovah. Guard your mind. Guard your soul. My supplications will be with you.’

Jether vanished.

Chapter Seven

Man

Follow me, Your Excellencies!’ Xacheriel’s deep voice boomed down the central portal corridors as he paced excitedly towards an enormous steel vault. Dimnah trailed behind him, attempting to hold Xacheriel’s train in his vain efforts to keep up with his tutor.

Xacheriel stopped abruptly outside the vault and swung around to face Michael, Gabriel, and Lucifer, his eyes lit with exhilaration. ‘Dimnah!’ he proclaimed. ‘You are dismissed!’

Dimnah bowed deeply and scuttled away down the corridor as fast as his short legs could carry him.

Jether walked towards them, tall and majestic, Charsoc following a step behind him. ‘My Chief Princes,’ Jether declared, ‘this is truly a sacred moment.’

Xacheriel reached deep in his robe pockets and fumbled around in irritation. ‘Drat and bumble!’ he declared.

Jether coughed politely. ‘Ahem.’

Xacheriel glowered at him.

‘
Ahem
.’ Jether’s cough become more meaningful.

Xacheriel followed Jether’s gaze to the large vault key hanging around his neck. He blushed and spluttered and placed the key in the vault entrance.

Slowly the heavy steel door opened.

The three archangel brothers and the two Ancient Ones followed Xacheriel into the outer vault, then through a second door until they all stood in the centre of a smaller inner portal.

All at once, there was a roaring above the portal atrium as the crystal cupola directly over the small assembly opened, and a vast, brilliant chamber of light began to descend. As the angels watched in awe, a figure swathed in brilliant, shimmering light became visible in the centre of the brilliance, suspended two full leagues above the ground.

Charsoc stared as the light gradually settled, magnetized to the descending figure. ‘Man . . . ’ he whispered in awe.

Gabriel stared at the figure, captivated. The prototype, now hovering just above the ground, appeared to be completely covered by a thin, incandescent clayish layer. Gabriel noticed that it was at least a cubit shorter than the angels and had no discernible wings. Its outer layers were created of matter and therefore appeared much duller than the translucent angelic bodies. He could not be sure, but it seemed that the atoms that continually radiated around the angelic host were missing. But it was beautiful. He stared, incredulous. With great difficulty he drew his gaze away to Michael. ‘Its features are flawless!’ His face shone. ‘As the angels . . . ’

‘It is
not
angelic!’ Lucifer retorted.

Michael gazed strangely at Lucifer.

Gabriel frowned. ‘It
looks
angelic, Lucifer.’

‘You
insult
us.’ A dark, fleeting fury crossed Lucifer’s countenance. ‘Brother.’

Gabriel stepped back from Lucifer, perplexed.

‘Lucifer,’ Jether said, placing his hand gently on Lucifer’s arm, ‘you forget yourself.’

Lucifer stared grimly ahead, his fist clenching the balustrade in front of him.

Jether bowed his head a moment in reverence. Slowly he opened his eyes. ‘My revered angelic princes, I have mentored and served you throughout the aeons, but I tell you that never in the annals of the First Heaven has there been such a day as this.’

‘A new race . . . ’ Charsoc said in wonder, ‘created in His own likeness . . . ’

‘The race of men are not fashioned as we, the angelic,’ Xacheriel explained, his face shining with rapture. ‘We, the angelic race, are each individually created by Yehovah. Fearfully and wonderfully fashioned. Yet we hold no ability to replicate ourselves.’

‘Yehovah has endowed the race of men with the capacity to create after its own kind.’ Jether turned to Lucifer. ‘As does Yehovah.’

Lucifer averted his gaze from Jether’s.

‘In His image,’ Charsoc whispered.

Lucifer, overcome by sheer fascination, moved nearer towards the prototype. He stared at the features of the man, studying intently the high cheekbones, the strong jaw line, the chestnut hair. ‘It is strangely familiar . . . ’

Charsoc stared at him intently for a long moment. ‘Have you not yet guessed, Lucifer?’

Lucifer frowned.

Charsoc raised his gaze to the prototype, then back down to Lucifer. ‘His image is that of Christos.’

Gabriel stared at the prototype, incredulous.

Michael was rapt in worship, exultant, his face shining. Slowly he turned his head to Lucifer, who was staring blindly at the prototype and trembling, his senses reeling with a terrible, searing, violent jealousy.

And it was then, as Michael watched, that Lucifer lifted his head from the prototype. His eyes glittered hard and black, filled with loathing.

He was staring up through the crystal cupola directly towards Yehovah’s throne.

And all the while Charsoc was observing Lucifer.

Chapter Eight

Treason

Lucifer strode down the imposing marble corridors, his imperial figure wrapped in a hooded crimson robe that billowed out behind him. He stopped outside the two huge onyx doors of his palace library. Eight Luciferean guards bowed prostrate in reverence. ‘Zadkiel!’

Zadkiel stepped out, as though from nowhere, and bowed deeply.

‘You have it?’ Lucifer inquired.

Zadkiel spoke in his usual refined tones. ‘From the inner sanctum of the Tower of Winds itself, Your Excellency.’

Lucifer grasped Zadkiel’s arm, drawing him down the library corridors and past the magnificent frescos. ‘You have been discreet?’ Lucifer’s eyes were searching.

‘The curators will not miss the codices, Your Excellency, and by dawn they will be returned.’

Lucifer stopped in mid-stride. He nodded. ‘Of course . . . ’ He hesitated. ‘You know . . . that Yehovah would have given me access . . . ’

Zadkiel nodded, his gaze troubled. ‘Of course, sire. You are Yehovah’s prince of the highest order.’

‘Nothing is withheld from me by my Father.’

‘Of course, Your Excellency. Your throne is second only to His.’

Lucifer continued again through the corridors without breaking his stride.

‘It is more expedient this way, Zadkiel.’

Zadkiel nodded. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

Lucifer stopped in front of eight large columns. ‘There will be no disturbances, no interruptions, until my investigations are complete.’

‘The Holy Watchers shall ensure you are uninterrupted till dawn, Your Excellency.’

‘Good. Summon my high command – my thousand generals – to the Chamber of Congregation at six bells.’

‘I will give your command, Your Excellency.’

Lucifer stalked past the columns, past the warriors into his library chambers. The warriors bowed low.

The doors slammed.

* * *

Thousands of ancient books and tomes lined the circular chamber walls of Lucifer’s palace library: anthologies of worship and glorification, of ethereal bodies, of the music of the spheres. Their ancient casings were magnificently cast with Lucifer’s royal crest in ornate silver and gold filigree. Stacked to the ceiling in his palace archives, on the far side of the library, were ancient documents, manuscripts, scrolls of parchment, and codices: the Seals of Yehovah, the Holy Writ of the Ancient of Days, the antiquities of the First Heaven.

Lucifer threw off his hood, revealing the ruby-studded golden crown that rested on his gleaming raven hair. He moved straight to the black marble table in the centre of the enormous circular chamber, where ten large, golden-bound codices engraved with ancient angelic writings rested in the centre of the table.

He opened the first codex unceremoniously, rifling through the pages. Impatient, he passed his hand over the angelic writings and a bluish, lightning-like electric beam arced from his palm through the pages of the codex, which started to radiate with heat.

Lucifer gave a triumphant laugh. The fluorescent emissions gradually took form, metamorphosing into a life-size hologram of the matter prototype Lucifer had watched hours earlier in the crystal dome: man. He stared, enthralled, as the prototype executed a three-dimensional, 360-degree rotation, displaying muscles, sinews, and blood vessels. An automated voice delivered the scientific narrative: ‘Fifty million living units – termination – cells – millions die each second – immediate replenishment. Average cell measures 0.025 millimetres.’

With a wave of Lucifer’s hand, the narration abruptly halted.

‘Yes, yes,’ he muttered in irritation, ‘Homo sapiens software.’

He slammed the codex closed in exasperation and moved his palm down the spine of a second codex. Virtual indices of the contents of the hologram displayed themselves in the air. Lucifer pushed that codex aside, his eyes flashing with impatience.

He reached for the third codex. His hand hovered over the cover, and the modulated voice responded: ‘Level seven, biogenetic engineering.’

A slow smile spread across Lucifer’s face. He opened the codex and paged through it rapaciously . . . then stopped. The air filled with millions of pulsing, animated blue numerals. He stared at the arcing numbers, moving his palm through the myriad calculations.

The modulated voice expounded: ‘Species Homo sapiens – recipient of gene prototype 7877772261986538475068459936485926374893752426787777119964289364759403910098177.’

Lucifer hesitated, mystified. He frowned. ‘ . . . not the code for angelic DNA.’

His palm ran like quicksilver over the angelic writings. Thousands of virtual number patterns appeared and blinked out, but one continued flashing. Lucifer hesitated, then repeated the procedure, his breathing shallow, his mouth moving incoherently. With ultimate precision, he checked and rechecked the readings.

A look of horror crossed his face. The hologram rotated in the air. ‘It’s
His
genetic code!’

He turned the page, his hand trembling. He watched the animated hologram, ashen-faced, as an almost exact female replica was
surgically cloned
from the male Homo sapiens prototype.
Sharing the same DNA
.

The hologram zoomed in on a fertilized egg. Lucifer watched incredulously as the image progressed from an egg to a foetus to a baby.

He looked up, dazed.
‘It’s going to replicate!’
he muttered feverishly.
‘He’s duplicating
His
gene . . . in matter!’
He ran his hand distractedly through his hair.
‘Th – they’ll be immortal . . . intelligent . . . cognizant.’